Stolen
by Kioa
Summary: What if the story of Pocahontas had a seemingly small twist that could alter the entire story, including the characters? A one shot fic, also found at sunrise19 (Awesome Pocahontas author!)


Title: Stolen  
  
Author: Mai Lynn  
  
Started: July 18, 2003  
  
Finished: July 18, 2003  
  
Revised: July 27, 2003  
  
Re-revised: February 20, 2004  
  
Notes: Sorry, sorry! Revised two times, sorry! But the scene with Cocoum and Pocahontas is horrible. It makes it seem that Cocoum is the bad guy and I do NOT want that. Cocoum only did actions for the betterment of the village! So that and a few other scenes has been changed. All for my dearest Tess-chan. I love you! –Mai Lynn  
  
"Keep the ropes tight there, Thomas." John Smith reminded the red head patiently. Thomas nodded to him, to show that he understood as he quickly obeyed. John, Thomas and a few others were steadily working to build new and better tents for themselves, preparing for the upcoming storm. It had been thundering all day and the dark clouds above looked none too friendly.  
  
'I hope Pocahontas will be alright.' John couldn't help but think as he wrapped his arms around Thomas from behind and grasped the rope the younger boy held. He didn't notice the small blush appearing on Thomas's face as John gave him the instructions on how to tie the knot properly. Nodding again to the blonde captain (Though a bit shakily this time), Thomas tied the knot properly. Giving the red head a crooked smile and a squeeze on the shoulder, John stood and took up his rifle and placed on his helmet. Another red head, a burly Scotsman, arched a brow before questioning the man about to leave.  
  
"An' where ye be headin', lad? We still 'ave allah dis to do." He purred heavily, waving a hand to the unset tents behind him. John winked before saluting to them good bye.  
  
"I'll just be a few. Gotta take care of nature's call, then scout the area for any savages." With that said, he exited the tall wooden walls and disappeared into the bushes and trees. Heaving a great sigh, most of the workers went back to work while some sat back and lit up a cigarette to wait for the captain to return.  
  
=^.^=  
  
"Now, now Child. Be still. I'm sure when your father told you of this meeting, he meant the best intentions." Grandmother Willow tried to calm her young girl. Pocahontas sighed heavily before running her hands through her hair.  
  
"But Grandmother Willow, I'm afraid. Cocoum and I... Alone? He and I have nothing in common and I think my father is forcing me to accept the engagement the wrong way." Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked to Meeko and Flit for support. Both nodded their heads. Even Flit, who would have preferred Cocoum to that stupid blonde Brit, found this a bit fishy. A night alone, in a cabin a bit farther away than one would like from the village with an emotionless man? Pocahontas was afraid that Cocoum would follow the wishes of her father, and attempt an action she would rather not think about.  
  
"Oh, what can I do? I don't want to disobey Father, I've been doing that enough lately." Biting her lip, Pocahontas hung her head, her hands clasped nervously on her lap. Grandmother Willow could only place a gentle vine upon her back as she sung a soft song into the breeze, in hopes of calming her troubled child. This would not be an easy task for her after all.  
  
A sound alerted the foursome to John Smith as he noisily made his way through the woods. Pocahontas couldn't help but smile. The England native, though a hunter, was still too loud and her delicate ears easily picked up his foot steps. Running off of the stump, she fell into his arms with a content sigh.  
  
"Hello there." John's husky voice breathed into her hair. Feeling John's powerful arms wrap about her lithe form, Pocahontas felt a bit safer as she looked up and the two kissed gently. Meeko quickly detained Flit from interrupting the two and went off to see how that snotty dog Percy was doing.  
  
Breaking from the embrace, the two lovers drifted to the stump and sat together. For about an hour they enjoyed each other's company and hearing Grandmother Willow weave one of her fantastic tales. Pocahontas didn't dare to tell John Smith of her and Cocoum's night, otherwise their short time might be ruined and John might do something foolish. And so the two merely sat and listened, hugging each other tightly and hoping that the hour would be long and peaceful. Unfortunately, the hour was too short as Pocahontas waved her lover good bye and with heavy footsteps, made her way to the village.  
  
=^.^=  
  
"Oi, 'bout time ya got back, John! We just about completed the tents fer tonight's storm." A black haired man rambled, slapping Thomas's back heavily, "Ain't dat right, lad?" The small boy almost toppled over before smiling gently and nodding. John laughed at the two before stretching.  
  
"Well, no savages around these parts." He lied as he set aside his rifle, "What say that we all get something to eat and settle down for the night?" Everyone nodded with enthusiasm and headed towards the eating tent.  
  
=^.^=  
  
Nervous, Pocahontas walked the trail to the cabin behind Cocoum silently. The two would be there for a night, at the villagers' expectations. The two had been engaged for quite a while, and everyone figured it was about time for the two to become a bit more intimate. A couple of them had laughed and made jokes about the two, but everyone had no quarrel with the two alone together. Everyone except Pocahontas, that is. She knew that Cocoum would not wish to disappoint her father, and would do anything to make the village proud and protected. Still, she couldn't help but to wonder if Cocoum was comfortable with the decision that was made for them. Alas, with her head hung, she knew she couldn't disobey her father's wishes. He meant more to her than anything, even John Smith. As the two entered, she sat down in the middle and made a small fire while Cocoum prepared their beds, beer and dear skins, and set down their drinking water and food.  
  
The cabin was silent except for the sound of the new rain pattering on the roof and leaves outside. There were no windows and this left Pocahontas feeling even more miserable. She loved the rain and loved to watch the water fall out of the sky and bathe everything in its cleansing way.  
  
The two had just finished their dinner and were seated across from one another in the cabin. After even more uncomfortable silence, Cocoum walked over to Pocahontas and sat beside her. Looking at him, she felt pangs of nervousness grasp her insides. He was too close for her comfort as he placed a hand around her shoulders awkwardly. Strange enough, the man was tense and refused to look at the young native woman. Tensing herself, she quickly looked away. Feeling his trembling hand upon her chin, he turned her head towards him and kissed her lips rather roughly, though not menacingly. Almost pulling away, Pocahontas forced herself to sit still and endure. This was for her father, after all. Plus, Cocoum seemed as nervous as she did. Standing up with his arm still around her shoulder, he took her to the skins and lay upon her, feeling her and kissing her uncomfortably. She merely gritted her teeth and endured his uncomfortable virgin touches and kisses. Even when he entered her and pain ripped through her, she didn't cry out. Even as blood and seed spilt between her legs and as Cocoum slipped out when he was done to sleep with his back to her, she didn't move or cry or even speak. Staring at the ceiling of the hut, thunder and lighting twisted around outside while the storm raged and raged. The storm almost seemed angry at their fate, Pocahontas mused as trees fell to the screaming winds and rain beat relentlessly against the cabin.  
  
=^.^=  
  
The night was long as John silently lay on his uncomfortable cot and listened to the raging rains and deafening thunder. Sighing, he placed both of his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling of the tent, wondering about Pocahontas. She seemed rather depressed and nervous at their last meeting, which worried him. She also was trembling slightly.  
  
'Maybe she's just nervous because my crew and her people are getting more and more anxious for battle.' He wondered. Knowing that his crew was good men though, John didn't worry too much. They would never attack anyone, even savages, for no reason. He also trusted Pocahontas's people not to attack either. Figuring Pocahontas probably felt that way as well, John dismissed the idea of her fearing for war. What could it be then? Sighing once more, he sat up and hung his legs over his cot. Peering into the darkness, he could make out a shadow beside him. Blinking a bit, he remembered that Thomas was sleeping next to him.  
  
"Thomas?" He inquired into the rain drenched and thunder-stricken silence. The small figure sitting on the adjacent cot gave a small gasp before heaving a sigh of relief.  
  
"Sorry John, you scared me." He whispered, just as soft as the blonde man did.  
  
"What are you doing up this late? The storm isn't scaring you, is it?"  
  
There was a small pause before the younger man shakily replied, "N-No... It's just... I've been having some dreadful nightmares. I know it's silly and I sound like a schoolboy, but... I... I..." He trailed off, unable to find the words to describe his terror. John reached out and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Don't worry Thomas. You have everyone else and me here. Nothing will happen." John reassured him, rather surprised that this sturdy boy was so taken by nightmares. He could feel Thomas trembling as the boy nodded in the darkness.  
  
"I-I'm sorry for waking you John... I'll... I'll go back to sleep." He said, but didn't move to lie down. John squeezed his shoulder before smirking.  
  
"Eh, I'm not sleepy. Are you?" He asked Thomas. The boy shook his head, then remembered that John probably couldn't see him.  
  
"No, not really.... Why?"  
  
Standing up, John pulled Thomas out of the bed and headed towards the tent flap. The rain had let up somewhat as the two stepped out of the tent. Both gazed in awe at the clouds above. The moon was behind the darkened overcast, making the clouds look frosted as ice. A soft smile spread to Thomas's lips as John closed his eyes and inhaled the fresh, moist air deeply. The two made their way to the gun supplies, which were under a large piece of cloth. Sitting upon two dry crates, they remained awake for the rest of the night, softly talking to each other about meaningless things until they both became silent and watched the breathtaking sky together.  
  
=^.^=  
  
Pocahontas gathered herself up and washed in the river. After feverishly bathing several times, she felt clean enough to surrender herself to open air. Getting dressed, she passed the empty cabin. When she had woken that morning, Cocoum was no where in sight. So leaving the dirty skins for him, she walked to the village, trying to hide her painful limp.  
  
"Ah, daughter!" Her father greeted her brightly. Forcing a smile, she hugged him tightly.  
  
"How are you this morning?" He asked her as they pulled away from the warm embrace. Pocahontas forced her voice to sound carefree, as it always did, but unfortunately, some of her disgust rippled into words.  
  
"I'm as happy as can be." She lied. Hoping that her father wouldn't hear the disgust, she excused herself and hurried off to Grandmother Willow. Spending the rest of her day there, she couldn't wait to see John Smith that evening.  
  
=^.^=  
  
After the sun had set, John left the camp silently. Tonight, he wanted his love under his arms. The night previous with Thomas proved that. Despite enjoying the young man's company, John had found that most of his thoughts were of Pocahontas, his beautiful lover. He couldn't wait anymore. He loved her with such intensity, he only wished to express his love by touch instead of words. Of course, if Pocahontas didn't want to express with hands and lips, he would wait. But knowing how much she loved him in return, he knew that she would be just as eager as he would. Rushing off, he didn't notice Thomas watch curiously from the open slot between the tall wooden wall.  
  
Thomas could never figure out why John Smith would go off alone at night. Sighing, he planned to return to sleep when suddenly he felt a large presence behind himself.  
  
"Follow him." Ratcliffe ordered, almost making the lithe boy scream in terror from surprise. Gasping, he stared at Ratcliffe's overwhelming size.  
  
"Wh-What?" He questioned, rather confused.  
  
Throwing a rifle to him, Ratcliffe sneered down to him, "We can't have him running off by himself. Now, be a man for once in your pathetic life and follow him." Pausing, the fat man added, "And if you see any savages, shoot them... If your miserable eyes can see that is." With that, he turned and left Thomas alone. A bit hurt by the insults, Thomas began to follow John's trail silently.  
  
=^.^=  
  
"Pocahontas." John greeted his love brightly in a clearing not far from Grandmother Willow. Having been forced to hold back her tears of detestation and loathing of the events of the previous night, she collapsed into John's arms and began to sob. Surprised by this, John slowly sat on the ground and cradled her gently. Hugging her, he petted her hair and kissed it kindly, whispering to her that he was there for her.  
  
=^.^=  
  
Cocoum, searching for his fiancé, went to her best friend, Nakoma. Telling him that she hadn't seen Pocahontas all day, Cocoum sighed in annoyance before taking up his bow and arrow. Leaving the village, he began to search the woods around for his fiancé.  
  
=^.^=  
  
After a few minutes of crying, Pocahontas looked up to him before whispering, "Cocoum and I... We... He... He forced himself onto me!" She almost screamed as she hid her head into his clothing. John's eyes widened. Cocoum raped her?! Raped his love? No, from what Pocahontas told him, Cocoum had seemed to be a caring emotionless man, not one to rape women.  
  
"Pocahontas, what happened?" John asked her, hugging her tightly. Despite his reasoning of Cocoum's virtue, John was filled with deep hate for this man.  
  
Pocahontas gathered her tears as she took in a shaky breath, "Th-The villagers all thought that i-it was time for us to be... be more intimate. And Cocoum will do anything for Father and the village! So he... We... Augh!" With an anguished cry, she buried her face in John's shirt. The man held her to him dearly, kissing the top of her head. She needed everything from him at the moment. Pushing his rage aside, he held her against him and rocked her back and forth. Soon, Pocahontas lifted her head and they kissed gently. Their lips pressed against each other, gentle and caring, quite unlike Cocoum's virgin yet animalistic lips. John's experienced hands caressed Pocahontas's back, just as gentle as his lips. Her silky hands found their way to John's hair and toyed with it and soon, the two lovers became intertwined with each other. Beautiful passion blossomed as John lay on top of Pocahontas, being careful not to squash her too much. With sincere love, his lips held hers once more. Waves of pleasure blessed the two of them as Pocahontas moaned softly when John's lips grazed her soft neck. Sitting up a bit, he slid off his shirt, then slid his lover's off as well. Staring at her almost naked body, he smiled gently before running a hand through her hair. Staring at John, she too ran her hand through his hair.  
  
"I love you." He whispered deeply, leaning in and kissing her once more. Moving her jaw against his, the native's tongue gained access into the Englishman's mouth. John's eyes widened slightly as a new sensation drove into him as her sweet tongue brushed against the roof of his mouth. Sliding her tongue out, the two couldn't suppress the laughter from such a new sensation. Breaking the awkward kiss, John's lips began to explore more of his forbidden one. His lips danced about Pocahontas's neck before gently caressing her collarbone. Pocahontas moaned as her hands massaged John's back sensually, her back arching as her blonde man licked her hard nipples. Opening his mouth, he delicately kissed her left nipple as his right hand slowly trailed up and down her silky side. With his ambition growing deep in his pants and Pocahontas's anticipation growing in her dress, the two removed the rest of their clothing before pressing their nude bodies against one another. Gasping softly, both moaned rather loudly as John eased himself between Pocahontas's spread legs. With her mouth open wide, she licked her lips as her hands moved across John's healthy frame, feeling him, memorizing him as intense pleasure heightened throughout her body.  
  
Both breathing heavily, John entered Pocahontas as delicately as he could and she moaned in absolute pleasure. Arching her back, he kissed her neck tenderly and the two continued their love making, both cautious and careful to please each other with as much love as they could. Thrusting gently into his delicate love, John gasped in the intense pleasure that possessed him. Moaning, he kissed her lips as he own moans met his. The two continued to breathlessly combine their love with physical pleasure, their minds contorted by the heightened rapture of sensation. Soon, their bodies became tense with fierce extremity, leaving them gasping and moaning in the aftermath.  
  
A while later, the two merely lay beside each other, staring into each other's eyes as their fingers laced together. Not wishing to get up, but knowing they must, the two helped each other get dressed, kissing and caressing all the while. Standing, they embraced warmly and kissed again, feeling safe in the knowledge of being alone. Unbeknownst to the two though, two pairs of eyes had just wandered into the clearing to witness their final kiss.  
  
Thomas gasped. John was seeing a savage woman behind everyone's back!? Staring at the two, he almost dropped his rifle in shock. His eyes picked up movement, though, as a bloodthirsty war cry sounded. Tearing through the brush, a savage man tackled John to the ground, shoving the savage woman to the ground. Gasping, Thomas quickly picked up his rifle to take aim. The two were wrestling upon the ground, grunts and cries of pain emitting as John's fists and the savage's knife relentlessly battled. The savage woman threw herself onto the savage man and tried to beat him off. Throwing her off of him, the savage got a nasty right hook in the jaw from John. Seeing this as his chance, Thomas quickly took aim, closing one eye tightly.  
  
'Keep both eyes open.' John's words rang through his head. Opening his eyes, he quickly shot the musket. In that sparse moment of remembrance though, Thomas's bullet pierced through the air and struck Cocoum's back while he was on top of John. Screaming in pain, the indian fell as his dagger sliced through John's skin and into his neck. Gurgling, silken blood sputtered from both of the men's mouths before both lay dead.  
  
Pocahontas and Thomas could only stare. Dropping his gun, he leapt from the underbrush and ran to John. The woman and boy gently shoved Cocoum off of John and stared at his cold, blue, dead eyes. Shouts were heard as scouts from the village approached the clearing at hearing the gunshot. Pocahontas stood as she glared down at Thomas. Lunging at him, she screamed at the top of her lungs, pinning him to the ground with her weight.  
  
"YOU KILLED HIM! HOW COULD YOU, YOU KILLED HIM!" Her hands wrapped around his white throat as she began to choke him, thrashing his head brutally. Gasping for air, the boy tried to squirm out of her grasp. He could feel heated tears fall onto his cheeks as she began to sob and scream, her tight grip weakening. Indians from all around pulled her off of him and roughly took Thomas's hair, forcing him to stand. Tears of his own fell down his cheeks as the indians powerfully took his arms and tied them behind his back, jostling him roughly towards the village. The rest of the tribe took Cocoum onto their shoulders, taking the corpse back to the village, leaving Pocahontas to cry alone in the clearing with her dead lover.  
  
=^.^=  
  
"Where is John Smith?" Ratcliffe growled to the sleepy men of Jamestown early in the morning. No one knew as they all shrugged and looked bewildered. Searching around the camp, they also discovered that Thomas was missing as well. Rumors started to fly about the two crewmembers being kidnapped by the savages. Those rumors became stories as anger and hate flew throughout the camp.  
  
"The savages took 'em!"  
  
"I'll wager that those damned savages scalped 'em."  
  
"They're prolly bein' tortured and killed righ' now!"  
  
Ratcliffe stood impressively before him as his loud, bellowing voice declared, "Tomorrow morning, we will take revenge for John and Thomas! Those savages will taste our anger, our hate! Let us go to war with the savages and kill them for killing our comrades!" Hyped by the speech, the men spent the rest of the afternoon preparing to attack the savage village at evening time. Little did they know, the natives had their own plans.  
  
=^.^=  
  
"He killed Cocoum! We should kill him too!"  
  
"But the white visitors might interfere!"  
  
"Then we go into war with the whites!"  
  
Cries for justice raged on and on in the village. Everyone wanted to see the frightened white die for his sin. Tied up and beaten in a hut, the white boy would die by the sun's morning rays. Everyone prepared themselves. Not only would this white visitor pay, but the others will too. War was being cried, and Pocahontas was none too happy. Though deeply mournful of the loss of her love, she didn't want to see war take hold of his peaceful place.  
  
Walking to the hut that contained the murderer, she entered silently. Hearing sobs, she treaded over to the boy. His violent flinch from her presence easily told her that the visitors he had before were clearly there to beat him. Kneeling down in front of him, she gently lifted his battered face to look at her. His entire being was shaking horribly as he opened his eyes to look at her. Recognizing her, fresh tears fell down his cheeks and he began to rant crazily.  
  
"I-I'm sorry! I-I didn't m-m-mean to, I didn't mean to k-k-kill J-John. I-I only wanted to protect him, but I ki-killed him! Oh God, I-I didn't mean to, I-I killed him, God I'm s-s-sorry, I didn't want him to d-die! H-How could I do thi-this?! I k-killed him, h-he's dead b-because of-" Silencing him by placing her hand over his bloodied mouth, she shook her head. Having been crying all day, she couldn't spare another tear. Stroking his cheek, she forced a small smile to her lips. This boy was clearly innocent. Though meaning to kill Cocoum, she saw that the death of her loved one was by fault, an accident.  
  
"Shh... It's all right. I know you didn't mean to." She said gently. Her stroking seemed to have calmed him a bit as tears continued to fall down his agonized, bruised face. Getting up, she took one lasting glance at him before leaving. Not knowing why she had visited him in the first place, she went to Grandmother Willow to discuss the current events.  
  
"And now they're preparing for war." She said, some tears escaping her eyes during her tale. Grandmother Willow sighed as she caressed her poor child with her vines.  
  
"Child, things happen for a reason... And though your handsome and caring man is dead, he still lives with you." Pointing to Pocahontas's breast with her green vines, Grandmother Willow smiled with deep love, "And that young boy certainly didn't mean to do this. Things happen sometimes." Nodding to her, Pocahontas wiped away her tears.  
  
"Now what Grandmother Willow? How can I stop this? I don't want anyone else to die." Her kind mentor looked to the fresh, dawn sky before gravely looking back to Pocahontas. The sun had yet to rise. There was still hope.  
  
"Child, the course of one's future is run by oneself. You must stop this, only you can. Only you have no hate blinding your eyes and heart. Find the strength within you; Find the strength with your surroundings. Breathe in courage and fly like the eagle. You must stop this child, go!" With the stimulating speech and moving music to back the old willow's words, Pocahontas sprung from the stump. Without exactly knowing how to stop the war from happening, she ran as fast as she could to where the young boy would be beaten to death. Hearing drums, she ran faster and faster. She wouldn't make it! The boy would die and the war would begin! More people would die! Heaving, her feet pounded in tune with her heart as she flew through the trees, through the brush and finally, into the mob of natives. Her father rose his staff just as the white Englishmen trampled out of the brush. Panic ceased her heart as she leapt into the scene.  
  
"NO!" She cried, flinging herself onto the boy. Her father stopped mid swing and stared down at her, shocked. Heaving with effort from her run, Pocahontas stared up at her father, feeling the boy tremble violently beneath her.  
  
"Daughter, what are you doing?" He questioned sternly, "This must be done! He killed Cocoum!"  
  
"No, Father!" She pleaded, "He may have killed Cocoum, but if you kill him, everyone will die! Father look around you. See everyone's weapons, feel their hate. If you kill this man, we will go to war and everyone will die! Father, please, look!" Pausing, Pocahontas's father looked about himself. He saw his warriors with their arrows drawn and with looks ready to kill. He looked down at the white men and saw their rifles and their own looks of hate. He then looked to his daughter and the trembling boy beneath her. He saw her courageousness and the boy's fear. Closing his eyes, he could feel the hate in the air. No, he would not let this hate spread and kill everyone. Opening his eyes, he turned to his best warrior.  
  
"Let the white boy free." Turning to everyone else, he rose his staff over his head. Pocahontas smiled with relief as she got off of the boy.  
  
"My daughter has shown great wisdom beyond her age. Her wisdom has shown me that although all of us have lost two good men, killing is not the answer. We mustn't fight each other because this will only create more hate and more suffering." Lowering his staff, he himself helped the trembling boy to stand. The archers lowered their arrows as all of the white men lowered their rifles. The chief was right, everyone realized, and so was Pocahontas.  
  
"Shoot them!" Ratcliffe ordered. John Smith's crew, filled with good men, glared at him.  
  
"Why? That indian's right, there's no reason to fight!" They argued back. Ratcliffe growled and took up a rifle.  
  
"Then I'll do it!" He said, taking aim at the indian chief.  
  
"Stop 'im!" The burly Scotsman cried and soon, Ratcliffe found himself gagged and tied. Struggling, the fat man tried to break free, but he couldn't.  
  
"Y'know, I think allua dis would be better off if dat fatso left, eh fellas?" The Scot laughed. All of the men agreed as a few hoisted the fat non-governor upon their shoulders. Feeling as though there was nothing else that could make the situation better or worse, they turned and left the natives. Two of the men waited though to help their emotionally disturbed comrade back to the fort.  
  
Thomas looked at Pocahontas and her father. Falling to his knees, he bowed before both, apologizing to them in his shaky, broken voice. Obviously, Thomas's scar weren't just from his brutal beatings. Pocahontas knelt beside him, forcing a soft smile to her lips as she made him stand. The chief approached him gravely.  
  
"Though you have killed Cocoum, you have also killed your close friend. We understand your grief and your suffering. This is hard for me and for my village to bear. Cocoum was more than just a warrior to us. He was a friend, a brother... A son..." Powhatan paused, his grief resounding within his words, "We forgive you." Without another word, the chief turned and left, along with everyone else. Pocahontas squeezed Thomas's shoulders just as John had once before. Thomas gritted his teeth as he hung his head. The native maiden turned and left as Thomas staggered over towards the two waiting with depression greatly about him as he began to cry again. Pocahontas felt the same depression as she made her way towards her village, a few tears spilling down her cheeks once more.  
  
=^.^=  
  
It had been a month after the incident. Ratcliffe had gone back to England in chains for treason of conspiring against the King. Everyone in Jamestown now knew that there wasn't any gold and so lived by the natives happily, both working together to accomplish much. Though great times of happiness embraced everyone, Thomas was at unrest. He would barely eat anymore and began to look sickly and pale. Everyone began to think the boy would be better off back at England, but Thomas wouldn't leave. He above everyone else helped the natives the most, even going so far as to skip meals and sleep. His guilt and sorrow of killing John continued to eat away his mind and body as nightmares raped him each time he tried to sleep, leaving him gasping in tears when he awoke. Nowadays, he had taken the habit of straying out into the woods, where he would curl up under a tree and stare at nothing while pain bit his insides from hunger.  
  
However, Pocahontas was living her life normally, albeit short periods of depression that would strike her mysteriously. She became greatly worried though as she saw Thomas's spirit and body rot away into a tormented hollow of guilt and depression. Following him one day, she saw as he collapsed under a tree and heard his crying. Gently walking over to him, she placed a hand upon his back. Not knowing what to do, she began to speak to him, her voice soft and caring.  
  
"Thomas... Please, let go of this. I miss John just as much as you, but... It was an accident. You couldn't have known what would happen. Thomas, please don't consume yourself in sorrow about something that you didn't mean to do on purpose. There was nothing to do. Sometimes..." She swallowed her own tears as she tried to speak the concept that she herself didn't understand completely, "Sometimes these things need to happen. Please Thomas, John's spirit will not rest in peace unless you let go of him. Your health and friends are at stake. If you continue to wallow in your sadness, you will eventually die. We don't want that Thomas... John wouldn't want it." Turning to her, Thomas bit his lip as he tried to control his crying.  
  
"I-I've tr-tried... I c-can't stop crying an-and feeling guilty... IT WON'T STOP!" Hugging himself tightly, his shattered sobs racked his body aggressively, "Pl-Please, help me... I d-don't want to f-feel like this anymore... I-I want it t-t-to stop..." Placing her arms around him, she rocked him back and forth and sung a soothing lullaby. This would be long and hard, but with Grandmother Willow and her father, Pocahontas was sure to ease Thomas's nerves and make him whole again. Just as she did herself. Although John was gone, Pocahontas knew she could continue to live her life as she wished to. After all, it would be what John Smith wanted for her. –The End  
  
C&C's are always loved and loathed, flames even better!  
  
Forever more and insane, Mai Lynn 


End file.
